Running Up
by Mazarine Midori
Summary: When you hurt so much, you can hurt those you love most.  Song inspired.  Rated M for language.


A/N: This is my first fanfic, and I've only just learned of yaoi. I hope you like it. It was greatly inspired by the Placebo version of the Kate Bush song.

I own nothing of South Park, nor of the song.

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**Running up that Hill**

I don't mean to be waiting for him, I just always seem to be. I know that he is going to come. He always does, but a small part of me gets anxious that he won't show up this time. Finally the door opens and he walks in. I can't help myself, I smile shyly at him. He catches my eye and as he pushes his hood back, I see a small smile play across his lips.

"Hey Kenny", Stan says as he looks up from the game. Cartman is too busy trying to open his bag of Cheesy Poofs to acknowledge Kenny. I mumble a quick hello as Kenny parks himself on the floor in front of the couch.

"What are you playing?"

"Call of Duty," Stan says rolling his eyes.

"Ah, classic. Why Call of Duty?"

"Cartman got tired of zombies killing him," I explain. I can't help but smirk. Despite his bravado, we all know that Cartman is totally scared of zombies and that's why he sucks at that game.

"Shut up, Jew. It's a stupid game and we are all better at this anyway."

Kenny picks up the controller lying by his feet and we add him to the game. We _are_ all decent at this game and it sucks up a bunch of time. Eventually Cartman craps out of the game and Stan, Kenny and I continue to play. I am about to suggest that we go back to the zombies, when Stan gets up.

"Well, I gotta go guys. I'm meeting Wendy again tonight and I need to get some shit done at home."

He grabs his coat and heads towards the door.

"Yeah, I'm going home too," Cartman says as he sort of rolls himself off the couch. He heads towards the door to follow Stan out, but before he leaves he turns around looks between me and Kenny, "Careful Kyle, or Kenny'll try an' hump ya."

"Shut up fat-ass," I yell as he walks out the door.

Kenny turns to look up at me and a cheeky grin crosses his lips. "He's right you know. I just may try to hump you, now that we're alone."

I look down and smile at him, "I may not try to stop you," I say as Kenny moves up to join me on the couch. Without a moments hesitation Kenny leans over me to kiss me. Oh, how I long for his kisses, his caresses, and the way he looks at me when he is really horny. As our lips touch, I lean back into the couch, reach out and grab his forearm to bring him in closer.

"Ah," he exclaims and pulls back.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just don't grab my arm there okay?"

"Why? What happened?" I automatically go for his sleeve to pull it back and see what happened.

"Get off, Kyle. Just don't touch my arm." He looks at me, and I can see frustration building behind his blue eyes. He sits back on the couch, and that is when I notice how gingerly he sits back. When I think back to him walking in I remember how carefully he removed his jacket, and how gently he set himself down.

"Kenny, what happened? What are you hiding? Why is your arm sore and why are you moving around so slowly?"

The look that flashes behind his eyes is something I've never seen in him before. Something like hatred, but not quite. Anger, and something else. His voice is deadly serious as he almost whispers,

"Kyle, just leave it. Okay. I'm fine. I'm going home now." I jump up and block his way.

"Kenny, something is going on. Let me see," I say as I grab his shirt and lift it up. I am not prepared for what I see and all I can do is mumble something like "oh, or my god."

Kenny tears his shirt out of my hands and glares at me. He's never glared at me before. He is so angry that looks like he is trembling. "What the fuck Kyle? I told you to back the fuck off... What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Kenny, what happened?" I am barely able to string the words together, they come out as a whisper.

"What do you think happened, _Kyle,_" Kenny yells at me. "My dad got too drunk, again. He was yelling and ranting and being a fucking drunk asshole and I happened to be the closest thing to him when he decided he needed to hit something." He is so angry. I watch him clench his fists, but behind all the anger I can see the pain. He is hurting, and more than just physically.

"Kenny, we gotta do something. We can call social services or something."

"WHAT! You wanna call social services? What the fuck for?"

"Kenny, you need to get out of that house. If your dad beats you, that's not cool..."

"IF my dad beats me? What do you mean IF, didn't you just see my fucking ribs? Wanna see what else he does?" he yells as he pulls up his sleeve. I just stare at his forearm. It actually takes me a minute to process what I'm looking at, "That's...that's a..."

"Yeah, a cigarette burn. Fucker claims he's making me a man. Making me able to handle pain."

I don't even know what to do, I sort of fall back on the couch. "Kenny, we need to tell someone."

He turns on me and stares down at me. His voice gets all slow and deliberate, "Kyle, don't you fucking say a word to anyone. EVER. I will never forgive you if do."

"But, Kenny..."

"Don't fucking say anything. Why do you care all of a sudden? It's not as if this is the first time this has happened. Why suddenly do you want to do something about it now?"

"I didn't know before," I whisper. Suddenly I feel very ashamed. How did I never notice? We have been friends since pre-school. How did none of us ever notice?

"Oh, so now your going to swoop in and rescue me? Is that it? God, your just like your fucking mom. Always sticking your nose in other peoples shit. Going on these fucking crusades, trying to save everybody. Save those who don't know any better. Is that it Kyle, does it make you feel better about yourself? Does it make you feel superior? Do you need to _save_ people to feel like your worth something," he practically spits at me. I don't know what to say. I just sort of stare at him. "I care about you Kenny, I just want to help."

"You _care_ about me? Really? You care about me do you? You CARE so fucking much about me that NOBODY knows we have been fucking for the last 5 months. Wanna keep it a secret. That how much you care about me?"

I look down at my feet. I can't bare to look at him when he is looking at me with such anger, such contempt. "I told you. I'm not ready to tell my parents yet. That's all, I just need time to find a way to tell them."

"What are you scared of Kyle? That they won't love you? Of course they're going to fucking still love you. That's not it, is it? Your not worried about telling them that your gay. Your worried about telling them that your boyfriend is the poor fuck that lives on the wrong side of town. You know they won't approve of me, that it. Your fucking ashamed of me. That's how much you fucking _care_ about me."

I can't help it, I can't look at him. Not because he's right, but because he is so full of disgust right now. I can't handle him looking at me with such disgust in his eyes. And before I can help myself, my eyes begin to water. "Kenny, I just want to get you help."

"What, social services? What are they going to do? Take me away? Then what, who's going to watch out for Karen?"

"We can get her out too..."

"Fuck Kyle, you just don't fucking get it. I am almost 17. We would be placed in separate foster homes. I would be put out on my own when I turn 18. I couldn't get Karen back. And if I'm gone, what is going to happen to my parents? Who is going to buy the food? Who is going to make sure they don't burn the house down, when they pass out with lit cigarettes? You think it's so fucking easy to fix this, you don't know a fucking thing. Why do you think I got a job, did you notice that for all the time I work I don't have anything new to show for it? Because, my money goes to food for my family. God, you fucking middle class assholes."

I can feel the tears falling, I don't even try to cover them up. I feel so raw and hurt. Not hurt so much by what he is saying to me, but by how true it all is. I don't know... I don't know anything.

"Are _YOU_ crying? What the fuck? Why are you crying? Do you have something to cry about? Does your dad put cigarettes out on your arm? Does he use you for a punching bag when he's had too much to drink? Does you mom call you a worthless piece of shit? Man, I can't stand this. You're fucking pathetic Kyle. I'm leaving." He grabs his jacket and pulls up his hood and storms out the door.

I sit there for a while, crying, replaying everything he said to me. I am filled with guilt and remorse. How did I not notice this before? Am I so wrapped up in my own life, my grades, getting into a good college, that I never noticed how much one of my closest friends was suffering? He always seems so happy, so carefree. That's one of the things I find so attractive about him. That, and he was always sort of mysterious, aloof. I get up and make my way up to my room. I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I lose track of time. I've sort of become numb. I'm sure I've heard Ike and my parents come home. But, I just continue to lie there and think about Kenny.

0O0

It's dark outside now, I have no idea what time it is, but it's late. I register a tapping at my window. I turn and look out. Kenny is sitting perched in a tree. I walk over and open the window. I step aside to let Kenny in, and just look at him. His head is bowed and he looks sad.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hey."

"Kyle...I'm sorry about earlier. I said some shit I didn't really mean."

I take his hand and lead him over to my bed. We sit next to each other. "Most of what you said was true. Kenny, I don't know what it's like. I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like." He shakes his head, grabs my chin and looks me in the eyes, "I know you don't. But, I shouldn't of said those things. I know you were just trying to help. And I just threw it all back at you," he lowers his eyes, "I didn't mean to hurt you." I lie back on the bed and pull him down next to me. "I know you didn't, and it wasn't really what you said that hurt. It was me realizing how true it all is." I cuddle into his arms and look up at him, "Kenny, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't know."

He wraps his arms around me and looks down at me, "Nobody knows Kyle. Nobody knows, cause I don't want anyone to know. I just sort of let my guard down with you." I look down at his chest and wrap my arms around him, "I wish we could swap places."

"No you don't, you don't want to live my life."

"No. I don't, not really. But I don't want you to have to live it either. And if we could swap places, even just for a little while, then you wouldn't have to carry this burden on your own."

My room is suddenly very silent. I listen and notice that Kenny has stopped breathing. As I begin to tilt my head up to look at him, I feel drops splash against my forehead. He breaths in, deep and slow, "I love you, Kyle."  
I grasp him a little tighter, "I love you too, Kenny."


End file.
